


And So It Begins

by krikkit_war_robot



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikkit_war_robot/pseuds/krikkit_war_robot
Summary: Arthur Dent is an ordinary human from an unremarkable planet called Earth. Six years prior to his planet’s sudden destruction, he meets someone rather unusual. Who is this strange man? Why is he fascinated by how ordinary Arthur is? And what have digital watches got to do with any of this?





	1. Introduction

Somewhere along the uncharted end of the western spiral arm of the galaxy, there was once an insignificant blue-green planet. This planet was largely unknown and was home to a race of rather primitive life-forms descended from apes. These ape descendants, who called themselves humans, had no contact with or even knowledge of life beyond their small planet, and their technology was so primitive that they still considered digital watches to be pretty neat.

This planet was called the Earth. The Earth formerly existed at a point along what is now the hyperspatial bypass which runs through Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha.

Fortunately, due to the Earth’s extreme insignificance to the rest of the galaxy, the only negative consequence of its demolition was the sudden termination of television broadcasts which the inhabitants of a nearby planet had been intercepting for their entertainment.

Moments prior to the destruction of the Earth, two people escaped by hitching a ride on a Vogon ship (it was a Vogon constructor fleet which carried out the demolition order). One of these was not a proper resident but a visitor, a seasoned and well-travelled hitchhiker from Betelgeuse Five who had been looking for a way off of Earth for the past several years anyway.

The other, a native Earth inhabitant, was a confused and startled ape descendent who was brought along more or less against his will by the Betelgeusian and hadn’t the slightest understanding what was going on.

This is his story.

However, this is not that story.

This is his story six years prior.


	2. Chapter 1

It was a perfectly normal and uneventful morning for Arthur Dent. Cup of tea, two slices of toast, the crossword. It was a morning just like any other, with no strange occurrences whatsoever, even though it was Thursday.

In fact, nothing remotely unusual or even interesting happened until around 2 o’clock that afternoon.

It was one of those rare English days where the weather is actually nice, a warm day with only a light cloud cover and no chance of rain, so Arthur had decided to go for a walk. As he walked, he began to think over all the things he had to get done.

First of all, he had a job interview with the BBC radio scheduled in two days’ time, and he felt entirely unprepared. He would have to be sure to prepare for that somehow. Then there was the state of moderate disarray his house was in. He needed to clean or at least get around to organizing the worst of it. He also needed to get his watch repaired. He was sure there were other things he was forgetting too, and after some time he found himself wondering why he was wasting his time walking idly when he had more important things to do.

Arthur was distracted a great deal by these thoughts, which can be highly dangerous in certain parts of the universe. For instance, anyone who walks around distracted and unaware of his or her surroundings in the wildernesses of Traal is very likely to be caught unaware and eaten by a Ravenous Bugblatter Beast. Fortunately, Arthur was not on Traal, and there are no Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts on Earth. Instead of walking inadvertently into danger in his distracted state, he simply walked inadvertently into another person.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized right away.

The man he had just walked into did not respond or even seem to notice his presence; he was stopped still in the middle of the pavement and staring into the sky, unblinking, as if in some sort of trance. Arthur looked up to see what he was looking at. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He looked back to the man, who was still staring fixedly upward, and began to feel a slight concern for him after a few moments.

“Hello? Sir?”

No response.

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

After another long moment, the stranger suddenly snapped to awareness and looked at Arthur.

“Huh? Did you say something?” he asked.

“I said,” Arthur repeated, “are you alright?”

“Of course,” the stranger answered. “Just watching for flying saucers.” He briefly flashed a smile then resumed staring into the sky. Arthur followed his gaze and looked up again in case there really was something out of the ordinary that he’d somehow missed the first time, saw nothing, shrugged, and continued on his way.

Arthur’s day carried on uneventfully until that evening when he decided to go down to the Horse and Groom. When he arrived, there was some sort of commotion going on.

“What’s the problem?” a drunken customer was insisting. “I can afford another drink. I have American Express!”

“The problem, sir,” replied the barman, “is that you’ve had far too much to drink already.”

Arthur looked toward the scene, as did several of the pub’s other patrons. The troublesome customer was a rather ordinary-looking stranger, but Arthur immediately recognized him as the same strange man who had been staring into the sky with such intent earlier that day.

“Too much? No such thing!” He fumbled about in his bag and took out a credit card, which he held up clearly as if it would somehow change the barman’s mind. “I’ll have another!”

The barman elected to ignore him. Arthur sat himself down at the bar.

“Never mind him, he’s harmless,” said the barman. “Just disruptive, is all. Anyway, what can I get you? The usual?”

“Same as always,” Arthur replied. After a brief pause, he added, “He’s been here before?”

“A few times,” answered the barman as he poured Arthur his pint and gave it to him. “Doesn’t know when he’s had too many, then he starts raving about space aliens or flying saucers or some other such nonsense.”

“You know,” someone chimed in, “you’d almost think he’s one of those space aliens he’s always on about, what with how much he keeps on about them.” A round of laughter erupted from the bar.

“I’d believe it,” added another, making no effort to contain his laughter. “He don’t make much more sense when he’s sober!” Another round of laughter.

“I think he’s just a madman,” said someone else. “He’s completely mad, absolutely bonkers! There’s no question about it.” More laughter followed.

“Or maybe,” the man finally interjected, “It’s the universe that’s mad, not me, and all I want is to get off this bloody planet and go home!”

There was a short moment of silence; no one was quite certain how to respond to his comment, or if it was even worth responding to. Finally, someone suggested:

“Go home, then.”

“More whisky,” he said to the barman, paying no attention to the seemingly reasonable suggestion that had just been made to him. The barman once again paid him no mind. “Excuse me! I’m trying to order a drink over here!” He waved his American Express card about in some attempt to catch the barman’s attention, with no success.

The conversation at the bar soon turned to the more normal topic of local affairs. The strange man and his talk of other planets was quickly forgotten about, until some time later when he made one last attempt to order another drink, this time holding up what appeared to be some sort of large and complicated-looking calculator and trying to bribe the barman with the promise of a good write-up in “the guide”. No one, not even the barman, had any clue what guide he was referring to (“you know, THE Guide!” he had said, giving no further clarification), and he had left shortly after that.

He had not gone particularly far from the pub by the time Arthur left a while later. Arthur was on his way home when he noticed him in the distance, standing in a field some ways away from the road. He was alternately looking up into the evening sky, looking down at something he was holding, looking back up again, and then walking unsteadily a couple yards or so further and repeating the process over again.

Arthur considered paying him no mind and carrying on home, but then it occurred to him that this man, who would likely still be in the pub had the barman not refused to serve him on account of his drunkenness, was probably too drunk to find his way home. He decided to approach him and offer him some help.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but you look rather lost. Do you need help finding your way home or something?”

“Just trying to hitch a ride,” the man answered.

“In the middle of a field?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he replied, “got a spaceship?”

“The road’s that way.” Arthur pointed him in the direction of the road, figuring it best to pretend he hadn’t heard the apparent non-sequitur.

“What, you expect someone to just land in the middle of the street?” He laughed.

“If you live close by, I could walk you home,” Arthur offered, still trying to be helpful and act like this conversation made some degree of sense.

“Too far,” the man replied. “It’s about...” He paused for a second to think. “A few hundred light years from Guildford, so from here it’s...” He stopped to think again. “About four hundred, I think... no, more than that. Definitely more than four hundred. Not walking distance.”

Arthur didn’t know how to respond at this point, but the man continued anyway.

“Betelgeuse,” he said, pointing more or less upward. “Way over there.”

“Beetle-what?”

“Betelgeuse, it’s that,” he began, then looked up again, pointed at a slightly different upward angle, then continued, “no, that star. That bright one there, that’s Betelgeuse, see it?”

Arthur looked up, although he wasn’t entirely sure why he was entertaining this strange line of conversation.

“Yes, I see it,” he answered, even though truthfully he didn’t know which star he was supposed to be looking at. “Anyway, if you need someplace to spend the night-” he began, trying to steer back to the issue at hand. He was about to offer directions to the nearest hotel, but the other man interrupted too soon.

“Sounds good, thanks for the offer.”

“I wasn’t... oh, never mind.”


	3. Chapter 2

Today would be a normal, ordinary day. Arthur Dent knew this for a fact, because today was not Thursday. Today was Friday, and it would be a perfectly average and typical day. At least, it would be once the stranger he had somewhat unwillingly allowed to crash at his house the previous night had left.

Of course, Arthur Dent was thoroughly mistaken. Today would not be normal, ordinary, average, or typical. (It is worth noting, however, that he was correct in his assumption that it was, in fact, not Thursday.)

He made his way downstairs, as was usual. He intended to make himself a cup of tea, as was usual. On his way to the kitchen, he passed by something unusual (though fully expected), and that was his unwelcome guest asleep on the living room sofa. He was sleeping under a ratty old towel he was using as a blanket; Arthur had offered him an actual blanket the night before, but he’d refused it with the reasoning that a towel is “the most useful thing in the Universe” or something along those lines.

Arthur did not understand this man at all. He would be glad to see him leave.

He continued on his way to the kitchen but stopped when he was greeted by his now-awake guest. Or rather, he had the usefulness of his presence in the current moment acknowledged by his guest.

“Hm, you’re up? Good, I’ll have a coffee. Black.”

Still half-asleep, Arthur shuffled off the to kitchen. He put the kettle on and set out two mugs, one with a teabag and milk, the other with a spoonful of instant coffee. Then he asked himself why he was making the coffee and returned to the living room to confront his guest.

“I don’t know who you are or why I’m making you coffee,” he began.

“Because I have a hangover,” his guest cut in to reply.

“What?”

“You’re making me coffee because I have a hangover,” he said again.

“Fair enough,” said Arthur, “but who are you?”

“Ford,” replied the guest, “Ford Prefect.” His name struck Arthur as being slightly odd, but he wasn’t sure in that moment exactly why and figured it was only because it was an uncommon one. “And I didn’t catch your name, either,” Ford added.

“Arthur Dent,” Arthur informed him. Then the kettle began to whistle loudly, so he returned to the kitchen.

In spite of his prior intention to insist that Ford leave, Arthur somehow ended up letting him stay a while longer, and the two began getting to know each other over breakfast and their respective hot drinks. Arthur was pleasantly surprised to find that Ford did not seem nearly as strange as he had previously acted.

One thing which must be stated about humans is that humans are extremely gullible. In fact, humans are so gullible that they immediately make three assumptions whenever they encounter anyone or anything which bears at least moderate similarity to a human:

1\. The person, creature, or object in question is a human.  
2\. The person, creature, or object in question is from Earth.  
3\. The person, creature, or object in question has never been anywhere other than Earth.

Once these Three Human Assumptions have been made (and it can be assumed without question that these assumptions are made about anyone or anything which appears physically indistinguishable from a human), anything said about oneself by the person, creature, or object in question will be accepted by the human as fact so long as it is considered more or less “normal” by human standards.

Humans will almost always make the Three Human Assumptions about any Betelgeusian they happen to meet, as Betelgeusians are mostly, if not entirely, indistinguishable from humans insofar as physical appearance is concerned. The only noticeable difference is that some Betelgeusians have more heads and/or arms than most humans. (For instance, Zaphod Beeblebrox, inventor of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster and semi-cousin to Ford Prefect, has two heads and three arms.)

Ford Prefect had exactly one head and two arms, which is coincidentally the same number of heads and arms which the average human has. A consequence of this is that Arthur made the Three Human Assumptions immediately upon meeting him and subsequently believed him when he made the claim this morning that he was an out-of-work actor who had recently come to the area from Guildford.

Readers unfamiliar with Earth culture may be wondering at this point why Arthur Dent believed these factually incorrect statements yet rejected the factually correct statement that Ford Prefect was from a planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse. This is because being an out-of-work actor and being from Guildford are both considered “normal” by human standards. Being from Betelgeuse, on the other hand, contradicts two of the Three Human Assumptions and implies a likely contradiction with the other, and therefore is considered the exact opposite of “normal”.

To recapitulate: Arthur believed that Ford was a human and not an alien, that he was from the Earth town of Guildford and not from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, that he had never set foot on any planet other than Earth, and that he was an out-of-work actor and not a field researcher for the best-selling publication in the Universe, the _Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_. None of these things were true, and Ford himself had only claimed that some of those statements were true, yet Arthur believed them all to be true without question because, as previously stated, humans are extremely gullible creatures.


	4. Chapter 3

Until now, Arthur Dent had lived a rather normal, ordinary, and boring life. This was just the way he liked it, because it bothered him when too many unexpected or unusual things happened. Ford Prefect preferred the opposite, which was why it bothered Arthur somewhat that they frequently encountered one another during the following weeks.

Humans have a peculiar tendency to consider anyone whom they see on a regular basis and whom they do not greatly dislike to be a friend. Arthur did not dislike Ford. He thought of him as a bit odd and only a mild annoyance and, as such, regarded him as a friend.

Because he regarded him as a friend, he did not ask too many questions when Ford asked to speak with him, as he put it, where “none of the Earthlings will overhear”. So they were now on their way toward Arthur’s house to discuss whatever this supposedly important and private matter might be.

It was a particularly quiet day, so, seeing no one around within earshot, Ford decided to bring it up while they were still outside:

“You know, Arthur, you fascinate me. I’m impressed. Really.”

“What?” said Arthur in surprise. He had always thought of himself as a rather ordinary person. “What’s so fascinating about me?” Then he realized that it was a compliment and that he should politely accept it instead of questioning it outright. “I mean, thank you, but why?”

“You’re incredibly boring,” Ford answered bluntly.

Arthur stopped.

“Excuse me, what?”

“Most boring person I’ve met on this planet,” he continued, entirely unaware that Arthur had taken offense to this comment.

“I thought you said I was fascinating,” Arthur said, “and now you’re telling me I’m the most boring person you’ve ever met? Is that meant to be an insult, or are you just trying to mess with my head again?”

“I’m not insulting you,” replied Ford, “just making a factual observation.”

“A factual observation?” Arthur echoed with contempt. He wasn’t sure why he took as much offense to this as he did, as he knew it to be more or less true already. Perhaps it was because Ford had been so blunt about it.

“Yes, that’s all,” said Ford. “You blend in well. No one’s ever suspected a thing, I’m sure.”

Arthur did not understand in the slightest what Ford was trying to say.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked.

“Not a drop,” Ford replied. Realizing this conversation was going nowhere at the moment, he skipped straight ahead to the question he had been leading up to: “Which planet are you from?”

“What?” said Arthur. “Which planet am I from? What sort of a question is that?”

“Well, I think it’s a given that...” Ford paused and looked around to make sure there was still nobody in earshot, then continued in a slightly quieter tone, “neither of us are from Earth.”

Arthur stared at him in stunned silence, although he really should not have been all that surprised to hear him say this sort of thing. Gradually realizing he may have made a mistake, Ford eventually added:

“You aren’t actually from Earth, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Arthur answered with obvious sarcasm. “I’m from the Moon.”

“Earth’s moon?” Ford asked with some hint of amazement. “I had no idea it was even inhabited. Remind me to go there sometime. Maybe I’ll stop for an afternoon after I leave here.”

Arthur didn’t have the slightest idea how to respond. He had not expected Ford to take his comment seriously.

“I was being sarcastic,” he added finally.

“So was I,” said Ford without missing a beat.

Arthur Dent made one correct assumption about Ford Prefect that afternoon. That assumption was that Ford did not understand what sarcasm was at all. He failed to realize, however, that the reason for this was that Ford had come from a planet on which sarcasm does not exist.

“Right, of course,” said Arthur with the hope of quickly putting an end to this strange line of conversation. “Of course you were.”


	5. Chapter 4

Arthur had (possibly against his better judgment) invited Ford in for tea, even though they had already spoken about the matter they intended to discuss before arriving at Arthur’s house. It was during teatime that Arthur discovered that the question _“You aren’t actually from Earth, are you?”_ was not the last strange question Ford would ask him today.

“Let me get this straight,” Ford said to him, “that watch you wear, it isn’t just to appear normal here?”

“What sort of sense would that make?” Arthur responded. “I wear it to tell the time. What other reason would I have?”

“I assumed you wear it so that anyone unobservant enough not to notice that it doesn’t work, that is to say most humans, would assume it to be a working watch which you use to tell the time, therefore adding a subtle but well thought-out detail to maintain your cover.”

Arthur blinked. He took a sip of his tea. He made an attempt to process what Ford had just said. He failed to understand a word of it.

“Say that again,” he finally said.

“Your watch,” Ford began again, “it doesn’t work.”

“I know that,” said Arthur. “I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, actually.”

“Which means you don’t use it to tell the time,” Ford continued.

“Well, no, not right now,” Arthur explained, “but that’s what I normally use it for.” He did, in fact, habitually check it multiple times a day, only to see that it was still stopped at 1:37 and make yet another mental note to get it repaired.

“So why do you still wear it?”

To tell the truth, Arthur did not know. He had not thought about this.

“Just out of habit, I suppose,” he answered.

“Hm,” said Ford, still not entirely satisfied with this response. “It’s such an old one,” he added.

“It’s not old,” said Arthur, “I’ve only had it a couple years.”

“It’s clockwork, isn’t it?” asked Ford.

“Yes.”

“Old technology. Really old.”

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Arthur. “Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s outdated or anything. It’s tried-and-tested. There’s a reason they’ve been making watches the same way for the past couple hundred years or so, and that’s because it works. What, just because digital watches are newer, I’m supposed to think they’re better or something?”

Ford suddenly burst out laughing, much to Arthur’s confusion.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur asked after a moment, though he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to know.

“Digital watches,” Ford began once he’d caught his breath, “absolutely ridiculous! I don’t know who came up with the idea or why he thought it was a good one, but it’s the most absurd, unnecessary invention in the Universe!”

“Maybe I’m going mad,” said Arthur, “but I think that’s the most sensible thing you’ve said all day.”

Humans have a natural inclination to trust people who are similar to them, and so the discovery that he and Ford shared an opinion on digital watches gave Arthur a great deal more reason to trust that he was indeed an out-of-work actor from Guildford and not suspect that he was, as was incidentally true, actually from Betelgeuse. In fact, Arthur did not suspect for even a single brief moment at any point during his time on Earth that Ford Prefect may not actually be from Earth.

Ford Prefect, on the other hand, felt a sense of deep disappointment after his initial amusement had faded. He had come to suspect that Arthur might have come from elsewhere, that his extreme ordinariness (by human standards, at least) might be some sort of elaborate act he’d thoroughly perfected in order to blend in perfectly in human society. He was extraordinarily ordinary, more average than average, it had seemed to make sense to think he was hiding something.

But Ford knew now that this was not the case. Arthur Dent appeared to be a perfectly ordinary human because he was, without any doubt, a perfectly ordinary human. He was just like all the others after all: he had never left the Earth, and he was completely ignorant to even the possibility of life existing beyond his primitive home planet.

Unfortunately, the planet on which Ford had been stranded for the past nine years was Arthur’s primitive home planet, and the chances that Arthur would be able to provide him a way elsewhere were now clearly zero.

Now certain about this fact, he resolved to simply maintain his cover when in Arthur’s presence from now on, which he did successfully until he and Arthur went down the pub that evening and had a few too many.

Somehow, he succeeded in avoiding raising any suspicion whatsoever for the remaining six years he spent on Earth, before hitching a ride on a Vogon ship and blowing his cover.


End file.
